


I Won't Give Up

by orphan_account



Category: Merlin (TV)
Genre: Friendship, Gen, M/M, Magic Reveal, Pre-Slash
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-01-13
Updated: 2012-01-13
Packaged: 2017-10-29 10:42:55
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,449
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/319030
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>There was no right time to tell the Prince of Camelot that you were as magic as pixie dust, but it did seem like it might be good idea to bring it up when Arthur found himself oddly incapacitated by a spell. (Spoiler: It wasn't.)</p>
            </blockquote>





	I Won't Give Up

**Author's Note:**

> **Disclaimer:** Merlin does not belong to me and no money is made for this piece of fanfiction. The italicised lyrics belong entirely to Jason Mraz.
> 
>  **Notes:**  
>  I heard the song I Won't Give Up by Jason Mraz and was immediately hit with a plotbunny! I think it fits rather well into Arthur and Merlin's relationship :D
> 
> This fic is dedicated to Muffin, who so generously bribed me with wonderful art when I was stuck ([Bribing 101](http://skauing.deviantart.com/art/Bribing-101-278911111))

  
_I don't wanna be someone who walks away so easily_  
I'm here to stay and make the difference that I can make  


 

Magic pulsed in waves underneath Merlin’s skin, sending a rush of freedom through him that made his lips curl into a giddy smile. It rushed from his eyes and into the cave with a blinding light, making the creature hovering over Arthur howl in pain. Arthur was sprawled on the ground, his sword pushed out of reach. He was shielding his eyes as he attempted to crawl away from the swaying beast. Holding his breath, Merlin watched as the beast fell to the ground where Arthur had been just seconds ago. It gave a bone-chilling cry as its scaled body shuddered.

“Arthur!” Merlin cried, signalling towards the mouth of the cave. “Hurry!”

Now that the creature lay on the ground, feeble and defeated, all the panic Merlin had kept at bay came creeping in on him. He hadn’t had any choice but to use magic. It wasn’t like he could rush forwards and wield a sword at a great, scaly beast. Truth be told, Merlin could barely wield a sword at a pole, let alone anything that moved. Of course, he’d never admit that to Arthur.

Merlin’s hands gripped at the slippery stone walls of the cave as he looked over his shoulder. Breathing a small sigh of relief, he saw Arthur dragging himself up the steep hill to the mouth of the cave. Turning back, he slipped down the stones towards Arthur and extended his hand. Arthur didn’t even look twice at it before he grabbed it and let Merlin haul them both back into the open air.

They both fell down into the dewy grass, breathing heavily as they looked up at the tree tops. Arthur groaned loudly between heaving breaths. Merlin was just as exhausted, but he knew it must have looked as if he’d just stood there while the beast nearly killed Arthur. It wasn’t like he had much choice in that matter, but it felt a bit silly lying here exhausted after seemingly having done nothing at all. He propped himself up on his elbows.

“What _was_ that thing?” Arthur said, casting a glance back at the mouth of the cave.

“I don’t know, but I’d rather not meet another one.” Merlin’s hair was sticking to his forehead and he pushed it away.

“I thought I was dead,” Arthur admitted, meeting Merlin’s eyes. “What happened?”

_I happened._

It would be so easy to just say it, right then and there. He’d saved Arthur and surely that would count for something if he just came out and said it. He opened his mouth to speak, but then he remembered how Arthur had just taken his hand without hesitation. Arthur always seemed to pause before putting anything in anyone else’s hands – let alone his own safety, but he’d trusted Merlin without a moment’s thought. Losing that suddenly felt unbearable.

“There was a light,” Merlin said, and at least that wasn’t a lie. Inevitably, the lie had to come, though. “It came from the beast itself; I’ve never seen anything like it.”

“I guess it must have been my lucky day.”

Arthur pushed himself to his feet and rolled his shoulders experimentally.

“I guess so.”

“And you just stood there?” Arthur asked, his eyebrows raised in question. “Were you just standing there hoping for a random stroke of luck?”

Merlin brushed the grass from his clothes as he stood up and he looked up to glare in Arthur’s direction.

“Well, your sword was out of reach and I was too far away to get there in time,” he said defensively. “What was I supposed to do, stop time?”

“I wish you could,” Arthur muttered. “It would be a lot more useful than your sword-fighting.”

“Sadly, if I could stop time, you’d never get any use of it since I would be burning at the stake right now.”

Merlin didn’t quite mean to sound so bitter, but he couldn’t quite help it. There were all these things he could do to help Arthur and he was always left doing them in secret. It always seemed as if he was less than useless, which was hardly fair.

“Well, lucky for you, _Mer_ lin, you seem to attract strokes of luck,” Arthur said, grabbing Merlin with one arm and twisting him into a headlock.

“Ow!”

“Now go make yourself useful and fetch the horses.”

As they rode, Merlin couldn’t quite stop looking at Arthur. He never could stop looking at him after Arthur had narrowly escaped death. It was as if he just had to make extra sure that Arthur was still there and still breathing. Arthur himself always seemed to grin cheekily at the world after he’d cheated death, while Merlin was usually preoccupied worrying about the next time, wondering how long he could protect Arthur and keep his magic secret at the same time.

“The beast should have known who it was dealing with,” Arthur said brashly, all narrow escapes and strokes of luck forgotten.

Merlin couldn’t stop the small smile that tugged at his lips. “Quite.”

“Well, no scaly beast is going to be my downfall if I can help it.”

And it wouldn’t be if Merlin could help it either. He peered at Arthur whose expression was open and carefree in the euphoria of survival and he knew he was where he was supposed to be. Even if Arthur didn’t know it, he would protect the prince until he no longer could. He was there to stay, whether Arthur wanted him to or not.

[---]

 

  
_Our differences they do a lot to teach us how to use_  
the tools and gifts we got  


“Arthur!” Merlin bellowed, raising his voice in a way he was not at all used to. “You can’t just run into the flames!”

Arthur stopped and looked back over his shoulder, but Merlin knew it was only temporarily.

“I know you’re very fond of just standing around, Merlin, but that’s not how I play it.”

Fighting back the urge to sit Arthur down and tell him about all the times Merlin had just been _standing around_ , he held up his arms as if to surrender.

“I know,” he said. “But please listen to me. Those aren’t regular flames.”

“Of course they are, and as we speak they’re trying to engulf an entire village!” Arthur was definitely getting irritated now.

“Those flames are magical, Arthur,” Merlin said, desperation seeping into his voice.

The flames roared ahead of them, eating rapidly at the woodwork of the small huts in the village. The knights were going from house to house getting people to safety and Arthur was planning to somehow stop the flames all on his own. But the flames had a strange tint and Merlin could feel the pulsing energy coming from them in waves.

“How do _you_ know that?”

Merlin shifted his weight from one foot to the other. This really wasn’t the time. He couldn’t just say ‘because I’m magical, now let’s go stop a fire’. Maybe Merlin was very unrealistic about this, but he’d planned all these things he wanted to say and if he said them all now, an entire village would be flattened in the mean time.

“I’ve been your manservant for several seasons, haven’t I?” Merlin said, meeting Arthur’s gaze steadily. “There’s an attempt on your life by magic about every other day!”

Arthur looked conflicted and sweat was beginning to form on his forehead from the heat of the fire. Merlin knew he wanted to do it all alone – stubborn Arthur always did and he never did want to realise that sometimes he needed someone else as well.

“Look,” Merlin exclaimed, pointing towards the flames as they almost seemed to swallow a nearby building. “That’s purple smoke. Have you ever seen purple smoke?”

“Maybe it’s...” Arthur’s voice trailed off and he stood in place, looking uncharacteristically uncertain.

For a moment Merlin thought he might have gotten through to Arthur, but then he took determined steps towards the sea of fire and Merlin cried out after him.

“Do you know how to fix this magical fire, then?” Arthur yelled over his shoulder. “Or are you just going to stand there like a clot pole?”

The burning wood crackled sickeningly in the air as Merlin ran after Arthur and his eyes began to sting from the smoke. The purple smoke almost vibrated against Merlin’s skin and he wondered briefly if he was the only one who could feel that. They were uncomfortably close to the fire when Arthur turned around and leaned on his sword, looking expectantly at Merlin. It seemed to hit him right in the chest that Arthur was actually waiting on him for instructions and if they’d had more time he probably would have teased Arthur about it relentlessly.

“There’s a herb,” Merlin said. Well, there was a herb, but there was also the small detail of the incantation that accompanied it.

Arthur’s expression changed from expectant to disbelief within seconds. “A _herb_? Merlin, do you know what a fire is? It’s hot and it burns things and you will _die_.”

However, Merlin was already running down into the clearing of the woods. The ground was uneven and slippery, but he couldn’t slow down. He had little time.

“Do you trust me or not?” he yelled over his shoulder.

There was a brief silence and Merlin wondered for a moment if he’d gotten too far away to hear Arthur’s answer.

“I’ll keep the flames at bay on the other side.” Arthur’s voice was distant.

Merlin turned around in time to see Arthur stretch his sword out in front of him and sprint through the flames. Almost slipping on the moss, Merlin cried out. The idiot was jumping through magical flames as if they wouldn’t touch him. Who knew what had just happened to Arthur? Merlin squeezed his eyes shut and knew that his only hope was finding the herb. He couldn’t help Arthur now. That thought made him feel dizzy with panic, but just as Arthur needed to learn that he sometimes needed help, Merlin had to learn that sometimes Arthur didn’t need help.

A patch of the herb was nearby, as Merlin had expected. The fire could not have been started without it and he knew that they grew in the forest. He hadn’t dared to entertain the thought that someone might have brought the herb with them to create the fire, but thankfully that was a worry he didn’t need to dwell on now.

He sprinted back over rocks and moss, nearly slipping and falling flat on his face several times. His face almost had an unfortunate meeting with a rock, but he grabbed onto a branch just in time. The fire was larger now, stretching towards the sky and licking like scalding, purple tongues against the houses of the village. Merlin could hear commands being yelled at the other side and he knew that Arthur was in doing his part. Now it was up to Merlin.

He ran his fingers over a twig of the herb, lacing golden magic around it in fine threads as if spun by a spider. Speaking low and intensely under his breath, he launched forwards and threw the herb into the fire. The heat against his face was almost unbearable and he shielded himself with magic instinctively, backing away as the fire roared in what almost sounded like a human cry of anguish. It began dwindling and falling apart, tumbling like a house of cards. The fire was gone in an instant, but purple smoke filled the air in its wake.

Moving hesitantly forwards, Merlin found that the first couple of houses were ruined, but the rest of the village looked miraculously unscathed. Through the purple fog he could see crowds of people huddled together and they became clearer as he approached. Soon, he could see Arthur standing propped up against a building on shaky legs. The sleeves of his shirt had burnt clean off and his arms were covered in an angry purple burn. His face was pale and he looked sick, but he still attempted a victorious smile when he saw Merlin approach. Merlin, on the other hand, had launched into a run when he saw Arthur’s state and he grabbed Arthur’s arm without a word.

“I’m fine,” Arthur said, but the hitch in his voice betrayed the pain he was in.

“Your arm is purple,” Merlin observed, pursing his lips. “You’re not fine.”

“The ladies at court have always said I look dashing in purple.”

Merlin rolled his eyes. Leave it to Arthur to find the most inappropriate times for a joke.

Since Merlin could not make orders, he subtly told Arthur that the knights would have to stay behind and help the villagers. He knew from the shocked looks he got that he probably hadn’t been that subtle. Arthur didn’t have the energy to berate him, though, and the knights were ordered to stay behind as Merlin took Arthur back to their abandoned camp.

Lying inside the tent shivering, Arthur looked even worse. It always gave Merlin a strange stab to the chest when he saw him like this. It always felt like a mix between guilt, fondness and concern. He touched his hand softly to Arthur’s skin, hoping to dull the uncomfortable feeling. Finding several remedies he’d brought with him from Gaius, he began treating Arthur’s burns with gentle touches, thinking of Arthur staring magic boldly in the face and leaping into it. Arthur was clearly mad, but Merlin couldn’t help admiring him anyway.

Arthur shook under his hands and Merlin hushed him softly, promising that he’d be done soon.

“You ran through magical flames to save a poor village,” Merlin said, unable to keep the awe out of his voice.

“Yeah. Well.” Arthur said, his voice shaking slightly. “You fought a fire with herbs and won.”

Merlin’s lips quirked into a warm smile. “We’re quite a team.”

Arthur didn’t answer as he finally succumbed to sleep and Merlin knew that he would be fine by morning as he uttered a softly spoken spell.

[---]

 

  
_We had to learn how to bend without the world caving in_  
I had to learn what I've got, and what I'm not  
and who I am  


 

The deafening bang of the door being shut carelessly made Merlin jump and the ash he was scooping out of the fireplace showered over him. He sputtered and coughed as the ash burned in his throat. It stung. His eyes watered as he got to his feet and glared at Arthur who stood by the bed with his chainmail in his hand. Arthur was looking at him as if he’d never seen such a spectacle in his life, but there wasn’t really anything novel about that.

“Should I add ash to your never-ending list of weaknesses?” Arthur asked dryly, holding his chainmail out for Merlin to take care of.

“I’m fine, thanks for asking!” It didn’t come out quite as angrily as Merlin wanted, due to his involuntary coughing.

“Of course you’re fine, you just swallowed some dust.”

Arthur stripped himself of the clothes he’d been wearing all day and his shirt, wet with sweat, clung to his back. Slipping into the bath Merlin had drawn only moments ago (and kept almost scalding hot with a simple touch of magic); he hummed softly and closed his eyes.

“Merlin, get my dinner from the kitchens.”

It was something Merlin would rather not admit, even to himself, but he was a bit disappointed to be ordered away from the room. He liked tending to easy chores as Arthur lounged in the bath looking content and soft and not at all like someone Merlin should technically address as ‘sire’. It was always in the private of Arthur’s chambers that he felt the most equal to Arthur, though Arthur would probably combust into fire on the spot if he knew that.

When Merlin came back, Arthur had finished his bath and sat by his desk, fully dressed. The moment had passed while he was gone and Merlin sighed as he carefully balanced the tray of food in his hand. He watched intently as Arthur’s eyebrows knitted together into a deep frown as he scribbled quickly on a piece of parchment. Trying not to break Arthur’s concentration, he put the tray down as quietly as he could.

He bounced slightly on the balls of his feet, feeling restless. He could tell that Arthur’s head was elsewhere and even though he wanted to give into the impulse of poking Arthur’s shoulder like a child, he sensed that this was hardly the moment. Instead, he took his time emptying the now cold bath water and leaving Arthur to his own thoughts.

It was only when Arthur’s shoulders began tensing up that Merlin stepped up to the table and yanked the parchment out of Arthur’s reach. This was met with an indignant cry, but Merlin only jumped back when an arm flung out to grab the paper back.

“Eat,” Merlin said, putting the parchment down on the bed.

Arthur sighed and rubbed his temples absentmindedly.

“It’s cold now.” He scrunched up his nose in a grimace.

“And whose fault is that?”

“Yours.”

“I’ve only been following orders,” Merlin said, smirking in satisfaction. He couldn’t say that very often, seeing as he rarely followed orders.

Sometimes Merlin keenly felt the confusion of straddling the roles of servant and friend. He always had to read Arthur’s mood and test the boundaries. When was he expected to pull back and be a servant? When was he supposed to lend the support of friendship? If he could choose, he would be a friend over a servant any day of the week, but that just wasn’t how it worked. Somehow, he’d ended up in the middle of being a mere servant and being an important friend, and frankly Merlin thought Arthur greatly underestimated the trials of that position.

Arthur looked tired as he ate. He appeared to eat mostly because he had to and it didn’t seem like he really tasted anything as he chewed mechanically. His frown had settled permanently into his expression and Merlin studied him carefully, taking in the lines around his mouth and the tightness of his neck. It was clearly time to be a friend.

Merlin slipped down into the chair opposite Arthur and stretched his feet in front of him with a deep groan. Holding back a smile as Arthur’s eyebrows rose, he put his arms up behind his head and sighed.

“What are you doing?” Arthur asked flatly.

Merlin grinned. “I’m tired.”

“You’ve barely done anything today, you lazy sod!”

“That’s not true,” Merlin protested even though Arthur was mostly right. “Your room is clean, isn’t it?”

Arthur looked at him disbelievingly.

“Cleaning your dirty floors is a lot harder than training with knights,” Merlin continued, studying his fingernails.

“Watch it, Merlin, or I will lend your services to the visitors this weekend.”

He really hoped Arthur was exaggerating, because he hated taking care of visiting nobility. They always treated him like an actual servant, unlike Arthur, and it wasn’t something he enjoyed much. He didn’t want Arthur to know that, though, or he would surely be stuck waiting on other people as a permanent form of punishment from now until eternity.

“Maybe that’s for the best anyway,” he said, doing his best to look nonchalant. “It’ll give me time to look after them since visitors to Camelot always end up trying to kill you.”

“Merlin, that’s absurd.”

“Hardly!” Merlin exclaimed, trying to hide his amusement. “Do I really need to start counting? There was –“

“ _Fine_. But the party from Northumbria are here to set up a peace treaty with my father and that hardly sounds like a good time to kill me.”

Arthur looked exasperated, but Merlin noted with a burst of satisfaction that his frown was gone and he had stopped glancing at the parchment on the bed.

“I’ll just not save you next time.” Merlin sniffed. “That way you can be seduced to death with some love spell or other.”

Leaning back in his chair, Arthur looked at Merlin with his eyebrows raised.

“How exactly does one seduce anyone to death?”

“Smothered by bosoms?” Merlin suggested, a grin forming on his lips.

He was rewarded with a guffaw from Arthur who threw his head back in an instant reaction, his expression open and relaxed. Merlin wondered at how the tension seemed to slip from his face as his laughter reached his eyes.

“And I won’t stop them, since you keep saying I shouldn’t,” Merlin said, encouraged by Arthur’s changed mood. “Instead, I’ll take the throne when you’re gone and all the servants will be knights. No one will have to wear ceremonial hats and all the villagers will take turns sleeping in the castle.”

Arthur laughed, his smile wide and bright. Merlin had always thought Arthur’s smile brightened up a room. It was a bit of a shame that he seemed set on hiding that side of himself from as many people as possible. It was as if being happy and relaxed was a weakness. Maybe it was for kings and princes. Merlin couldn’t recall seeing Uther very happy on any occasion, and he thought that most nobility seemed too grave at the best of times and always unable to take a joke.

“That settles it,” Arthur said. “I’ll just have to never die.”

Merlin could hardly argue with that decision.

“Brilliant idea,” he said, smirking. “I suppose the visiting chambermaids will just have to keep their bosoms to themselves.”

Arthur’s smile was easy and comfortable. It made Merlin’s lips pull into an answering smile instinctively and everything felt right. Right then it would have been so easy to just tell him everything. This open, relaxed Arthur made him want to pull every burden from his chest and lay himself bare in front of this bright, smiling version of his friend. But he knew he couldn’t bear to see that smile disappear or to see Arthur withdraw into that cold shell he hid behind until Merlin coaxed him out of it. He just couldn’t do that, no matter how tempting it was to pour his heart out.

Maybe someday Arthur would smile like that at Merlin the sorcerer, but right then he was perfectly fine being Arthur’s servant and friend.

[---]

 

  
_I won't give up on us_  
Even if the skies get rough  


 

Merlin had, naturally, been right about the visiting party from Northumbria. This made him snicker uncontrollably, but Arthur was rather less good-humoured about it than he had been when it was all hypothetical. Arthur’s face was set in a deep scowl as he sat on Gaius’ bench, letting the physician poke and prod at him without as much as a word. Not that he could have uttered a word even if he wanted to. The thought made Merlin grin and he turned his head to the side in an attempt to hide it.

“Hm,” Gaius said, ignoring the very menacing glares from Arthur. “Hm.”

When Gaius ‘hm’-ed yet again, Arthur shoved lightly at his shoulder and mouthed something none of them could make out. It was probably a good thing that they couldn’t, though.

“It seems like magic gone wrong, sire,” Gaius said, sitting back down in his chair. “I believe they may have attempted a curse to send you into a deep magical sleep, but such a curse takes great skill and powerful sorcery.”

When Gaius didn’t continue, Arthur bore his gaze into Merlin, his eyebrows seeming to attempt some kind of communication. Merlin stared at him blankly for a moment before he caught on.

“Then what went wrong?” he asked, nodding towards Arthur.

“I’m not certain, but it seems that a limited sorcerer has only accomplished parts of the curse,” Gaius said, scratching his chin. “As such, it seems to have merely rendered you mute.”

Arthur’s eyebrows seemed to speak to Merlin again and he wondered briefly if he should be worried about this line of communication.

“Is there a cure?”

“I’m afraid you will have to wait it out, sire,” Gaius said. His voice was sympathetic, but the slight twitch of his lip betrayed his amusement.

Merlin looked at Arthur and tried to decipher his face. It wasn’t easy. He squinted at Arthur.

“Arthur says that’s fine.”

Oh, clearly that was not it. Arthur’s entire face seemed to scream “ _Mer_ lin!” and Merlin swore he could almost hear him.

“Uh, I guess I mean: how long will it last and can you speed it up?”

Merlin looked at Arthur uncertainly and from the small nod Arthur gave, he supposed he got it right this time. Maybe this wouldn’t be quite as entertaining as he’d hoped. He was clearly going to be in trouble for not being able to read Arthur’s mind.

Gaius muttered quietly under his breath and walked over to this storage of vials and remedies. As he ran his fingers over them, looking deep in thought, Arthur was pulling his face into more expressions than Merlin had ever seen him use. Arthur’s mouth was clearly trying to mouth something, but Merlin just stared, inclining his head slightly.

“You’re hungry?” he tried, but grimaced when Arthur looked murderous. “Uhm, I mean... you need a bath?”

Arthur’s chin dropped to his chest and he seemed to take deep breaths. Then he began flailing his arms, placing them on his head as if gripping something on top of it. His face was set in an exaggerated grumpy expression and Merlin thought he mouthed something about excuses. Oh, wait.

“Execution?” Merlin asked, narrowing his eyes at Arthur.

Arthur looked relieved and he nodded swiftly before flailing his arms again. Merlin was fairly sure he had _never_ seen Arthur do anything that resembled flailing.

“Oh, Uther! You mean that we shouldn’t tell Uther!”

Throwing his arms up, Arthur nodded again, looking both pleased and fairly exasperated that it took so long.

“How on earth do you suggest I keep this from Uther?” Merlin said, apprehensive. “You usually chatter a hole in his head.”

Merlin ignored Arthur’s glare of death as he tried to think of ways to keep Uther from finding out. His conclusions were that it was fairly impossible. Arthur had several meetings to attend and his inability to speak would be noticed immediately, not to mention the fact that Uther came running any time anything seemed even remotely off about Arthur.

“You won’t be able to hide it from him,” Merlin said, crossing his arms over his chest. “But we could tell him that a cold bereaved you of your voice. Would that be all right?”

Seeming to think for a short moment, Arthur finally nodded.

“That’s a good idea, Merlin,” Gaius said as he turned around, a small vial in his hand. “It would probably leave us all with a lot less to worry about.”

Arthur looked as if he’d never like to agree that Merlin had good ideas.

“Now, as for your inquiry,” Gaius continued, “it’s hard to tell how long it would last, but considering that the sorcery seems weak at best, I would guess about a week. This remedy might help it pass faster, but I can’t guarantee that.”

Arthur took the vial held out to him and nodded before he pocketed the remedy.

“Take two drops of that in a glass of water every night and it might do you good.”

As they left Gaius, Merlin knew that even though it had never been spoken of, it would be up to him to stay at Arthur’s side at all times and try to make sense of what he was trying to say. It wasn’t something he was looking forward to at all, but over the next day he got unnervingly good at deciphering Arthur’s eyebrow messages. He even thought Arthur was getting quite talented at that whole miming thing.

“You should put on a show,” Merlin told him the following night and a plate whizzed past his head, crashing against the stone wall.

He just laughed and went on with his business of organising Arthur’s closet. The task of organising it had taken much longer than it should have and he was sure Arthur would have said something by now if he could. The problem was that he was distracted. A thought had been forming in his head throughout the day as he watched Arthur attempt his usual routines without being able to utter a single word. It was a completely crazy and terrible idea, but it was getting more and more appealing in some strange way. Wasn’t this really the best moment he could hope for? Merlin glanced at Arthur over his shoulder where he was seated by his desk, writing diligently.

Merlin had always waited for the perfect moment to tell Arthur about his magic, but it never came. In all honesty, the perfect moment he had imagined was probably one where Arthur wasn’t himself at all – one where he wouldn’t argue or look hurt or be angry. And the perfect moment was one where Merlin somehow didn’t have to feel bad about all his lies and all his deceit. But that moment would never come and nothing would ever be the perfect moment, but this might actually be the easiest.

Closing the door to Arthur’s closet, he made up his mind and walked slowly across the floor. It felt strange, this feeling in his stomach. It was cold dread, but also sweet anticipation and a growing burst of freedom. He sat down on the bed, dangling his feet over the edge and he immediately attracted Arthur’s penetrating gaze.

“I know,” Merlin said, waving his hand. “I should be working, but I need to talk to you.”

Arthur looked surprised and Merlin could hardly blame him. It wasn’t often that the two of them had any kind of heart to heart. This only made Merlin more nervous, if he had to be honest. When Arthur put his quill down and turned to face him, Merlin ran his sweaty palms over the fabric of his trousers and felt his throat constrict. This was a horrible idea, he knew it was. But when would he ever get a chance like this again? Arthur had no choice but to listen and he couldn’t argue or interrupt.

“I’m sorry... for choosing this moment to tell you this,” Merlin said earnestly and wrung his hands together. “I’m...I....”

Arthur nodded, urging him on. As Merlin took a deep breath to push his words out, he studied Arthur’s trusting eyes, wondering if he’d ever see those again.

“I have magic,” he said so quickly the words nearly ran together. “I _am_ magic. I was born with it and it’s a part of me. I –“

He stopped speaking when Arthur jumped from his chair, his body contorting and twitching in strange ways. For a moment Merlin thought the curse had somehow escalated, but as Arthur began pacing and punching imaginary things, Merlin realised that he was reacting in the only way he could. Arthur stomped at the ground and Merlin felt a rush of guilt. He’d been selfish, he knew that, but it was easier this way.

“Arthur, I know,” he said, his voice soft. “It’s terrible of me to tell you this when you can’t say anything, but it gives me time to explain and to hope that you’ll listen.”

The expression on Arthur’s face at that moment wasn’t exactly understanding. Merlin would rather describe it as murderous, but he felt confident that Arthur was listening anyway.

“Magic is like a sword,” Merlin said, trying to think of all the conversations he’d played out in his head before he went to sleep at night. “In itself, it’s only an object, but in the hands of its carrier it can do great, horrible, honourable or deplorable things. Magic in itself doesn’t do anything and having magic doesn’t make you good or bad.”

He could feel himself breathing easier as he spoke, freeing himself of his burdens. It was easier this way, when Arthur was only pacing frantically and not talking. This way, Merlin could say everything he wanted to say without having to know what Arthur thought about it.

Merlin looked straight at Arthur as he spoke. “Some people use magic for really bad things and you’ve had to face a lot of that. But I really want you to know that you’ve also experienced a lot of magic’s good sides. I’ve saved you, I’ve healed you and I’ve protected you. I’ve used my magic to save Camelot so many times, Arthur, and that’s what’s important to me.”

He wished Arthur didn’t look quite so plagued, but he’d known that he would. He’d always known that Arthur would look like that, and it broke his heart. And the way he looked as he never stopped pacing around the room was difficult enough to deal with. If he’d had to deal with Arthur’s words as well, he would have never been able to say anything.

“I wanted to tell you. I’ve always wanted to tell you.” Merlin swallowed back the lump in his throat. “Sometimes it’s been really difficult to carry so many things alone and I wanted to share it with you, but it was never the right time. You would have had to tell your father, and I suppose you would have to do that now as well. I really didn’t think this through, did I?”

His heart began racing and he felt panicked again. It had been such an impulse decision, all things considered. He’d spent months debating how and when to let Arthur know and then he’d decided in the course of a single day that it was time. Now it was impossible to take back and Arthur had his duties to the kingdom to consider.

“I swear, the only other person who knows is Gaius,” Merlin said insistently. “Oh...and Lancelot.”

Merlin almost jumped out of his skin at the murderous look on Arthur’s face as he turned around.

“I didn’t tell Lancelot by choice!” he explained hurriedly. “I had to help him defeat the griffin and he found out. Ever since then I’ve tried to be careful.”

This didn’t seem to soothe Arthur nearly enough.

“I wish I could have told you everything sooner, Arthur, but you have to understand that I couldn’t. Just please remember that I’ve chosen to use my magic to defend Camelot and to protect _you_.”

Arthur’s fists seemed to clench and unclench, and Merlin felt as if every clench of his fist was clamping down on his heart. It was a terribly selfish thing he just did and it was just another thing that Arthur had to forgive him for.

“I think maybe I should leave you alone,” Merlin said. “I’ll go muck out the stables.”

It was the first and last time Merlin volunteered to muck out the stables. The work felt oddly comforting, though, as he mulled the one-sided conversation with Arthur over and over in his head. It may not have been the perfect moment, but at least Merlin had the time to say what he wanted to say. And maybe that was as good as it got.

 

[---]

 

  
_And in the end, you're still my friend at least we did intend_  
For us to work we didn't break, we didn't burn  


 

It was three days after Merlin’s spectacularly horrible-but-also-convenient idea that he found himself with ash scattered all over his clothes for the second time in as many weeks.

“I have a bone to pick with you,” a rough, familiar voice had said from the doorway and Merlin found himself pulled to his feet by a pair of strong hands.

“Arthur, your voice is back!” Merlin exclaimed and desperately tried to fight the feeling of doom.

“Brilliant observation,” Arthur said with a voice so filled with false cheerfulness that Merlin felt the need to shudder. “It must be the work of _magic_.”

“Arthur, I –”

“How dare you tell me when I couldn’t speak?” Arthur said, his voice low and rough in a way that chilled Merlin to the bone.

“I know it was a selfish move, I just needed to say everything I wanted and I –”

“Do you have any idea how it felt to listen to that and not be able to respond?”

Arthur’s anger gave way for something that seemed like hurt for a moment and Merlin’s chest tightened. It wasn’t that he hadn’t known Arthur would be hurt – that was one of the things he’d feared all along – but this was an additional pain that Merlin could have spared him.

“I’m –”

“No,” Arthur said fiercely, pushing Merlin down onto the bed. “Now _you_ listen to me.”

Merlin pushed himself up on his elbows and stared up at Arthur whose cheeks were blushing red with anger. Catching himself from speaking just in time, he just nodded and knew that he owed Arthur that much.

“How could you think I would tell my father?” Arthur asked, his gaze penetrating. “And don’t answer that. Don’t say a word until I say you can.”

Staring up at Arthur he only nodded frantically. He was fine being quiet. It was probably the least he could do.

“I know he’s the king and my father, but I wouldn’t let him _kill_ you, Merlin. God, is that what you really think of me? You should know better than that!”

Arthur’s voice rose steadily in volume and he looked increasingly upset. His face appeared tired in the dim lighting of the room and Merlin had never felt quite so guilty in his life.

“Don’t you even realise how much grief you could have spared us?” Arthur drew a hand through his hair. “Fine, I understand that keeping it from my father would be frustrating and I admit that there was a lot of grief in finding out in the first place, but if you’d only told me ages ago I could have slept easier all those nights knowing that I had a sorcerer ready to help me.”

Merlin felt small listening to Arthur’s words and he felt even smaller by the knowledge that he was probably right. It was perhaps easy to see in hindsight, but up until that moment he hadn’t even known what Arthur would say or do. There were just so many possible reactions and he had pictured them all in his head at one point. How could he have said anything when he didn’t know where he stood? Maybe the reason he had said it now was that he felt more secure in his place beside Arthur.

“I can’t believe you’ve been standing in the background of everything we’ve done and controlled us all like puppets,” Arthur said.

Forgetting himself, Merlin moved to speak with an indignant look on his face.

“No,” Arthur said sternly.

Merlin obediently snapped his mouth shut, but he was staring daggers at Arthur anyway. Arthur thought Merlin should know him better than to think he would tell his father? Well, then Arthur should know Merlin well enough to know that he wouldn’t control people like puppets. As if Merlin didn’t have enough to do with just keeping Arthur alive.

“I can tell you don’t agree with that.” Arthur leaned against one of the bedposts and studied Merlin under furrowed brows.

“I know you’re loyal to me, Merlin. You’ve always been almost foolishly loyal. It just bloody _hurts_ that you lied to me for so long. And that Lancelot knew.”

He felt miserable – even more miserable than he thought he would. Parts of him wished he could shrink down into the bed never to be seen again.

“Was it always just you?” Arthur asked, sounding insecure all of a sudden. “Did you make sure I conquered everything and won every tournament?”

Merlin shook his head frantically, his heart beating uncomfortably in his chest. Arthur couldn’t really think that, could he? It seemed he must have looked as terrified as he felt because Arthur sighed.

“Speak,” he said, rolling his eyes.

“I didn’t!” Merlin exclaimed immediately. “I’ve only ever used my magic if you or Camelot were in serious danger. And even then I’m just helping. You’re brilliant with a sword, Arthur, and you’ve done it all by yourself. Unless you’re about to be killed by a magic …then it was me.”

His voice seemed to trail off and become weaker and weaker as he spoke, and he looked uncertainly up at Arthur looking for a reaction. Merlin almost jumped back in surprise when Arthur sighed again and sat down on the bed next to him. Leaning forwards with his arms resting against his thighs, Arthur looked at him with a searching expression.

“You’re a good friend, Merlin,” he said, his lips curling into a crooked smile. “Even if you’re a daft git.”

[---]

  


  
_I won't give up on us_  
Even if the skies get rough  
I'm giving you all my love  
I'm still looking up  


 

“Merlin!” Arthur cried over the chaos of battle, his sword glistening with blood. “What are you waiting for?”

Sprawled on the ground, Merlin was trying to get his breath back, and he forced himself back on his feet. He staggered slightly, watching as Arthur turned swiftly on his heel and pushed his sword into one of the bandit’s stomach with a sickening sound. He looked around and he knew what Arthur meant. They were definitely out of their depth. Even with Arthur and Lancelot’s skills they were still vastly out-numbered and Merlin was still less than useless with a sword in hand.

“Well, I was knocked out!” Merlin yelled back. “I’m fine, thanks for asking!”

“You were not knocked _out_.” Arthur came up by his side. His damp hair stuck to his forehead and there were streaks of dirt covering his skin. “You were just pushed. And quit dilly-dallying, we have no way to get out of this.”

Merlin rolled his eyes just as Lancelot ran past them on the heels of one of the bandits. Lancelot glared at them.

“ _Fine_ ,” Merlin said, raising his hand as he felt the magic coil in his chest, feeling like a taut bow. “You’re getting too dependent on magic, you know. Lazy sod.”

An incantation rolled off his tongue and the pressure in his chest eased as he watched the bandits keel over, their weapons slipping out of their grip.

“They’re just sleeping,” Merlin said when he saw Arthur’s look of horror. “It buys us enough time to get out of here.”

“Good.” Arthur stepped over to one of the bandits and nudged him slightly with his boot. “Let’s go then. Where’s Lancelot?”

They both wheeled around, looking in the direction Lancelot had disappeared and Merlin immediately blushed in mortification.

“ _Mer_ lin,” Arthur said in exasperation. “You didn’t shield Lancelot?”

“It’s not a checklist of victims I can just pick and choose from! If he was in the way, he got hit.”

Arthur rolled his eyes and slung Lancelot’s arm around his neck, attempting to pull him up from the ground.

“Get his other arm,” he said, slightly breathless.

Together they hauled the sleeping Lancelot up between them and carried him up to their horses. They slung Lancelot over the saddle and Arthur handed Merlin the reins.

“You’re walking with both horses,” he told him, grinning, as he mounted his own horse. “And make it fast.”

“Yes, Arthur.” Merlin grumbled and began walking next to a very chirpy Arthur.

“You know, Merlin,” he said, looking down at him from his seat in the saddle. “I was worried that you’d be _too_ useful: that you’d be so powerful that you’d just render everyone else useless.”

Merlin looked at him with raised eyebrows.

“I failed to take into account that you’re still an idiot,” Arthur said happily.

Trying to hide a smile, Merlin coughed into his hand.

“You should know better than that,” he said, grinning.

“I should indeed,” Arthur said, swaying slightly in rhythm with the horse’s trot. “I quite like that you’re an idiot, Merlin.”

“You simply must stop flattering me, Arthur; my head is almost the size of yours.”

As Arthur’s uproarious laughter rang through the woods, Merlin smiled at the feeling of content that spread warmly through his chest. It overshadowed the ache in his feet and the exhaustion of several days’ journey and he thought the woods might never have looked more vibrant. He looked fondly up at Arthur’s smiling face.


End file.
